


One Final Curse

by Cantatrice18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Malfoy Family Feels, Redemption, Resurrection, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: "The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."
Face to face with Harry at the climax of the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort decides to murder the last owner of the world's most powerful wand before the duel can continue. But after all she's done to protect her son, Narcissa Malfoy is not about to lose Draco in the last moments of the war.





	

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.”

Voldemort’s slit-pupiled eyes widened in shock. He was not the only one surprised by Harry’s words. Behind him, Harry heard a soft cry from among the assembled onlookers, His heart sank as he recognized the voice as one he’d heard so very recently. Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling in a triumphant smile as he shifted his wand to point over Harry’s shoulder. “No!” a woman screamed, just as a jet of green light shot from the tip of the Elder Wand. Harry spun around just in time to see the woman collapse into the outstretched arms of her son, her long blonde hair falling to obscure her face. “Protego”, Harry shouted, knowing he couldn’t possibly undo the damage Voldemort had done, and a wave of light cascaded over the watchers, protecting them from further injury. As he turned back to Voldemort, the effect of his shield charm still spreading to cover those behind him, he felt cold determination re-enter his heart. “It’s too late, Riddle…”

…

Harry looked down at the body of what had once been Tom Riddle, deaf to the cheers that had erupted all around him. His greatest adversary was gone, for good this time. Yet even at the last, with Voldemort feet away from him, he had still been unable to prevent a final murder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a pair of men huddled over a prone form, their figures hunched with grief. Tearing his gaze away from Voldemort, he turned and walked slowly toward the men, the crowd parting as he passed. No one seemed willing to touch him, their expressions awestruck even as they celebrated. Silence descended once more as Harry knelt by the limp body of Narcissa Malfoy. To his right, Draco wore a look of stunned horror, tear tracks visible on his pale cheeks. Across from him, Lucius stared at his wife’s body with an expression of deep and heart-wrenching loss, all the more striking when compared to his usual emotionless mask. Harry leaned forward, taking in every detail of Narcissa’s face. Her eyes were closed, her skin as white as a ghost. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, a shadow of her final cry as she’d leapt forward to save her son. Her head was tilted away from him, and without even meaning to, Harry reached out and laid a soft hand along the side of her neck, his other hand moving to rest over her breast in a feeble imitation of the way she’d examined him in the forest hours earlier. He had no hope of finding any sign of life. The killing curse, so brutally effective, could not be expected to fail twice in one night. Just as his own mother’s sacrifice had ended Voldemort’s reign of terror sixteen years before, another mother’s sacrifice would be the final legacy of Voldemort’s return.

And yet, as he bowed his head over the motionless Narcissa, he thought he could feel the barest shadow of a pulse, so faint he might well have imagined it. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of his thumb against the vein along her neck. There it was again, weak but present. A rush of warmth flooded him as he sat back, raising his wand so that it pointed down at her heart. “Rennervate,” he said calmly.

Narcissa’s whole body jolted as though shot through with electricity, and with a choked gasp her blue eyes opened wide. She took a long, shuddering breath, her limbs trembling, her gaze darting around in confusion.

“Narcissa,” came a strangled sob, and in an instant Lucius had lifted his wife from the ground, cradling her in his arms, his tears flowing freely as he clutched her to his chest. “My Narcissa.”

Whispers flowed like waves through the crowd of onlookers, their faces a mix of fear and awe as they stared at Harry. Draco looked from his mother, weak but very much alive, to Harry in bewilderment. “How?” he asked blankly.

Harry looked around at the crowd before answering. “She wasn’t dead,” he said simply, loud enough for the watchers to hear. “Only badly stunned.”

His words spread through the mass of ragged fighters, and the tension that had filled the hall since Narcissa’s miraculous recovery broke. Groups of people separated from the throng, some clearing the hall while others recovered the long house tables and set them up in the center of the room. Harry noticed both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley watching the Malfoys with identical thoughtful looks of their faces. Lucius still knelt with his arms around his wife, while Draco rested a hand on his mother’s shoulder. Narcissa, for her part, had regained enough of her senses to understand where she was and what had happened. She looked around until her eyes found Harry’s, her expression confused and almost fearful. He smiled at her, feeling tired but contented. “A life for a life,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. Narcissa looked as though she wished to reply, but seemed to think better of it, and simply nodded.

With one last look at the family, Harry turned and began to walk toward the newly positioned house tables. “Harry, wait,” came a voice from behind him. Hermione had been watching the entire incident and now moved forward until she could stand beside him. “Harry, what on earth just happened?”

“I told you, all of you: she wasn’t dead”, he repeated. Now that the battle was finished, his muscles ached with weariness.

“But why isn’t she dead?” Hermione pressed him. “How could that curse not have killed her instantly, the way it did so many others tonight?”

Harry’s heart contracted painfully in his chest as he remembered Tonks and Lupin lying on the cold stone floor, and little Colin Creevey cradled in Hagrid’s arms. “I don’t know for sure,” he replied. “I have a couple theories, though. See, tonight in the forest I intended to die in order to save everyone in the castle. That included Draco, as well as those fighting for our side. So when Narcissa went to save Draco, some of the protection given to him might have radiated out enough to protect her as well.”

“Hmm,” said Hermione, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “And your other theory?”

“Well, like I said, I died to save the innocent from Voldemort’s wrath. At the time I thought that was limited to those left in the castle. But after I came round – after the curse failed to kill me, Narcissa was sent to examine my body. She was supposed to report to the other Death Eaters whether or not I’d survived the curse. She felt my pulse, knew I was alive, and yet she turned to Voldemort and lied for me.” He paused for a moment, remembering how gentle Narcissa had been with him. “I think, in that moment, she became a part of that group of people I wanted to protect from further harm. So even though it was after the fact, some of that protection I’d given to the fighters here got transferred to her. Enough to stop her from dying, anyway.”

“That still seems pretty farfetched,” Hermione said doubtfully.

“There’s also a chance the Elder Wand refused to kill its former master, at least when wielded by someone not its true owner,” Harry offered. “Or it refused to work properly at all. There’s really no way to tell at this point.”

“True enough,” said Hermione, sounding almost disappointed. “I suppose we’ll never know.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, and Harry followed her gaze. Mrs. Weasley had slowly made her way over to the group of Malfoys, and now rested a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “The elves are bringing up food from the kitchen,” she said, her gaze shifting between the three of them. “You must be hungry. Will you join us?”

Draco looked towards his father for instruction. Lucius appeared torn between his ingrained contempt for the Weasleys and his newfound position as a member of the losing side. Narcissa shifted in his arms until her hand closed over his, and the pair exchanged a look. Lucius squeezed his wife’s hand before turning back to Mrs. Weasley. “Thank you. We accept.”

Mrs. Weasley gestured toward the tables. “When you’re ready, a place will be made for you.”

Despite everything that had happened, Harry found himself smiling as he watched Draco help Narcissa to her feet. Life would return to normal again. Old animosities would resurface, and in time all camaraderie might be forgotten. But for now they were one group, united in their survival and prepared to face the dawn of a new day.


End file.
